. : Forgiveness : .

My breaths roll

in slow, heavy puffs of air

outward,

like the repeated gasps of the wounded.

My hands shake

as I am only

just beginning to notice

that I can use them again.

I feel the weighted press

of your words

as though

I was only just hearing them.

And from the distance,

comes a mournful keen;

“Do you love me, still?”

 

– Savannah

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